


Unspoken Histories

by ms_munechika



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Age Difference, Arranged Marriage, Backstory, Canon Crossover, Complicated Relationships, F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Headcanon, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Non-Canon Relationship, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Canon, Return to Ivalice Questline (Final Fantasy XIV), Shameless Smut, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:27:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27188617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ms_munechika/pseuds/ms_munechika
Summary: A look into the mystery of Noah van Gabranth as he is in FFXIV, the visionary whose noble intentions come at stark contrast to his own history as vicious conqueror. Set in the near past, Noah has recently conquered Dalmasca and has set his eyes on the port city of Valnain. There, he secures a peaceful surrender from the Duke, a certain Joshua Bardorba, symbolized in an arranged engagement with the Duke's adopted daughter, a decision guided by the hand of fate itself...Unapologetically headcanon. With additional crossover material from Vagrant Story, as hinted (vaguely) in the Return to Ivalice questline. SPOILERS for the Bozja Resistance and Return to Ivalice questlines!
Relationships: Noah van Gabranth (Final Fantasy XIV)/Warrior of Light, Noah van Gabranth (Final Fantasy XIV)/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)





	Unspoken Histories

**Author's Note:**

> Noah is a pretty recent addition to our FFXIV universe, so there's likely to be tons of canon complications with new material as it comes. Still, if you're here, thank you! This is a somewhat self-indulgent fic of mine, giving a possible history between my own WoL and Noah van Gabranth. As such, feel free to either insert your own WoL OR just think of the female lead as an original character if it suits.
> 
> Headcanon abounds and there are likely to be some typos and grammatical errors haha. Advanced apologies! Also, semi-trigger warning (just to be safe): definite age gap between the female lead and Noah.

Mari Bardorba, birth name Marija Merlose, daughter of Callo Merlose and adopted daughter of a certain noble whose territory (prior to the fall of Dalmasca to the IVth Legion) centered around the port city of Valnain. When asked why Legatus Noah van Gabranth had pushed to station the base of the IVth Legion in Valnain--rather than the capital of Lower Dalmasca, Lea Monde--most understood it was that Valnain, by virtue of being one of the largest ports on that side of Othard, never mind Dalmasca, had the most strategic value. Little did they know, of course, that the Legatus had other--more personal--reasons.

Valnain, it is said, suffered little in Noah van Gabranth's conquest of Dalmasca. In fact, if one were to judge the city by how it was in the present, it appeared that Valnain had been spared most of the usual casualties of war. Some attributed the location to be a factor--being the far side of the kingdom, it was far past the fortress of Nalbina, which had been the site of the IVth Legion's victory and (thus) the end of the conquest. The war, then, simply had no reason to have touched Valnain. Yet, could not the city have fought still? Other cities and areas had done just that, despite substantial evidence to the futility of the act.

So, what then? Only Noah knew the real answer and he kept it close to his chest, so to speak. Indeed, it was a deceptively simple reason, easy enough for him to hide beneath all the benefits a port city offered. And he hid it for the truth was a matter that could be used against him, seen as a sign of weakness, something he could not suffer if he meant to lead his army into creating a nation free of both the empire and the roles born of status and station.

The truth was... he had a fascination with not the city, but a very specific young noble lady, heir to House Bardorba, the same house that claimed Valnain as under their purview during the reign of the B'Nargin line of kings and queens of Dalmasca: Marija, called Mari by those close to her. At first sight, the girl was just a child, but her red-violet eyes held a determination that had caught Noah off-guard. For a man who had waged war upon a nation with thousands dead, it was an odd experience to have the eyes of a young girl stop him cold. When he had learned she was the adopted child of Valnain's Duke Bardorba, he made a proposal to the Duke...

The child or the lives of Valnain's people.

Duke Joshua Corrinne Bardorba had little to say, though the tension in the man's face told him that he obliged only out of duty. All of them knew that Noah would raze the city to the ground if it suited him, so it was curious to Noah that the Duke still grated at the exchange. What was one child in the grand scheme of things? There seemed only more and more mysteries around the girl with red-violet eyes, mysteries that Noah felt compelled to uncover.

And so, as is custom in societies such as theirs, ownership came in the guise of betrothal--the six year old girl, Marija Bardorba, became engaged to Noah van Gabranth, 12 years her senior at a mere eighteen years old.

At their first true meeting, Noah took off his helm, something he did not ever do in public, and knelt before the girl, his green eyes meeting her rubellite irises. With gauntlet-covered fingers, he tipped her chin up so that her gaze matched his.

"Never forget this face," he stated, his voice holding no emotion. "From this day forth, your life is mine to choose. Still... your will shall always be your own. Know that I will protect you and perhaps one day you will learn that I am not a man to fear or loathe, but one that shall make this world into something far better than what it is now. A world where a man's merits shall measure his worth. And you will help me make that possible, one day."

Marija said nothing, her almond-shaped eyes only gazing steady at the man. She gave a small nod--a sign of her understanding--and Noah stood, gazing at the small thing. Part of him wondered if he had not been too reckless in his decision, if it would become anything of worth. Yet... part of him knew that there was nothing else he would or could have chosen...

-#-

Marija stayed with the duke as she grew older, her wedding to Noah predetermined to be around her 18th summer. Noah spent almost no time with her in those twelve years. He was not a sentimental man, nor did he thought he needed to be involved with his young fiancee's life, given plans had already been set for their matrimony, never mind that the difference in their ages meant there was little for them to even discuss. At the death of Noah's father, Noah had been made Legatus of the IVth Legion and his hands were full with the administration of lower Dalmasca, quelling those who might try to challenge his authority--both within and without. And so, twelve years came and went before Noah met Marija again.

For whatever reason, Noah had called upon the Bardorba House to schedule Marija's evening meals with Noah as the expected day of their wedding approached. Their first dinner together was to be held at the home Noah had come to have in Valnain over the years the empire occupied Dalmasca. Servants--absolutely loyal to Noah, as much as the IVth Legion was--were sent to fetch his bride-to-be and preparations made for their evening together. He had sent a gown with said servants for Marija to wear, tailored especially for her (he had sent a seamstress to her home a week or so before), but also to his tastes: simple but elegant, airy for the heat of Dalmasca, silken fabric with dainty floral embroidery on the sash at the waist, gold and green, reminding him of the wildflower-covered plains of his home before the Garlean Empire, the Republic of Landis. Not that he was sentimental.

Noah opted for a formal uniform, clean-cut but standard for high-ranking officials in Garlemald's military. Escorted to the sitting room of the estate, the now young woman met Noah sitting idle, a glass of Dalmascan wine to his side (untouched)... and as she entered, Noah found himself caught in her gaze, green eyes to violet-ruby.

She was, of course, beautiful. Perhaps objectively not the most beautiful woman he had ever beheld, but... Noah could not help but follow her movements with his eyes, graceful but not dainty nor even rehearsed, each sway of her dress catching his eyes. He had been right that the cut fit her well, she like a modest goddess of hearth and home, lovely but not erotic. Yet somehow, that made him want her even more.

He gestured to the seat across from him.

"Please, sit," he stated, his voice betraying none of his thoughts. "This will soon be your home, after all."

Marija flinched at that, her shoulders raising just a touch. If he were anyone else, of someone less battle-hardened, he might have not noticed the movement. Still, he did and... it made him only more intrigued.

"Thank you, sir." Her voice was level, though she turned her gaze away from his. There was a certain flush in her cheeks and Noah felt an urge to smile.

"You have nothing to fear from me," Noah replied to her silent concern. "I am not the sort of man that would force himself on a woman."

The color in her cheeks deepened and she blinked rapidly. Noah indulged in the urge and smiled at the sight, leaning forward as his elbows rested on his knees.

"I am told," he continued, "that you received top marks at the academy in alchemy and aetheric studies. You've done very well. Very well, indeed."

His words were spoken in earnest and she turned her face to him, her lips parted, surprise evident on her face. Noah chuckled; her every thought and feeling were so transparent on her countenance. It was endearing... perhaps even a bit cute. He was tired, after all, of the practiced words and gestures of those in Garlemald's elite social circles, the double-edged swords that paraded as polite conversation. He had been a knight years ago, where honesty weighed heavier than honeyed tongues... But that was not Garlemald's way.

Indeed, he could hardly wait for the great power to fall, to fall upon its own sword, swung as it was as if it knew not the direction of its enemy... Because how could it know its enemy came from within?

"My lord...?" The gentle voice came from Marija, waking Noah from his reverie.

Exhaling something between a sigh and a laugh, Noah smiled at the young woman before standing. With measured steps, he made his way towards her, his palm out to keep her seated.

"Forgive me," he began, his hands resting on her shoulders as he leaned forward just a touch. "You came all this way and I am daydreaming. It is not often that I am able to have this sort of leisure. Pray understand that it has nothing to do with you... Other than, perhaps, your presence gives me ease."

As Noah spoke, he felt the truth of his words, his eyes meeting hers yet again. Perhaps, he thought, his fascination came from the way she could distract him from the caution he held in every movement, every word uttered from his lips. It certainly would explain much...

"There is nothing to forgive," Marija replied, her soft hand covering one of his own tentatively. "If anything, it makes me... glad... that you feel so..."

The way the dress fell, Noah could see her collarbone, the dip between them at the base of her throat. Following the desire, he ran the fingers of his free hand across her collar, his thumb resting at that tiny hollow, feeling her breathing as her chest rose up and down. When her breath hitched, her body shivering (despite the Dalmascan heat), electricity shot up his spine. He liked this... very much. So much it surprised even him.

His voice, then, came out hardly above a whisper, heavy with the weight of his thoughts.

"When did you become so lovely..." Noah spoke out of impulse as he brought his hand to her cheek, running his thumb across her lips. It pleased him that her rose colored lips were free of rouge... "So beautiful."

Noah tipped her chin up, as if to kiss her, but stopped himself before pulling away completely. Closing his green eyes, he felt a certain pang in his heart, envy at the men who had grown with her, having seen her grow into such a pretty flower, wild yet bright as an oasis in the desert, a unique rose in an untamed jungle. Marija, on the other hand, stared after him, dazed at the sudden intimacy.

When he turned to look again, he flexed his fingers as he tried to push away the urge to touch her again. It was uncouth of him... and yet, they were alone and she was to be his wife. How serendipitous that the same eyes that had once stopped him now pulled him towards her. Running his fingers over his lips in thought, he wondered if this was normal for a man like him, who had dedicated his entire life to war, to find himself dumb in the presence of a woman who took him away from all thoughts of battle and conquest. This feeling was so foreign to him that he had difficulty controlling the images flashing in his inner eye, her every movement captured in crystal clear memory.

"My lord," she spoke soft, edging forward on her seat as she called him. "Are you alright?"

The sincerity in her voice was an arrow through his chest and he ran a finger from his chin down his throat, taking in a breath.

Fuck, he had not prepared for this. How could he have...? And... was that so bad, after all?

Striding towards her, no longer resisting, he pressed a hand on her shoulder as he pushed her down on the sofa, his lips finally finding hers, soft and responsive. He leaned over her, one hand cradling her neck and his other holding her balanced in his arms.

Noah was drowning in Marija.

And he did not mind it at all.

Her arms wrapped around his neck and he took that as consent, coaxing her mouth open with his, his tongue entangling with hers. She tasted salty and sweet and absolutely intoxicating, much more than the wine he had sipped at previously. Without provocation, she pushed her hips up against his, the pressure of their bodies against one another making him hiss with all the pent up frustration he had ignored most of his life. She gasped against his breath and he pressed his knee between her legs, his hips meeting hers.

It was unlike him to be so animal-like, yet he had long lost rationalism. All that was left was instinct and desire.

Had he been lonely?

Perhaps.

But it didn't matter.

Noah hitched up the skirt of her dress, albeit both of them still clothed yet wanting to be closer to her, to feel her more and more. She was soft yet strong, supple yet firm. When she moaned against his lips, he shifted and lifted her up, positioning her so that she straddled him as he sat on the sofa, gazing up at her with rare reverence. Pushing her dark hair from her face, he pulled her down against him, their lips meeting again.

"M-my lord," she gasped even as her hips writhed against his, her face flushed crimson and her gaze hazy. "I... I..."

"Shh," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "It doesn't matter. Only you matter."

He brought his hand between their bodies, under her skirt and finding her smallclothes. Guided by urgency and instinct, his finger slipped under the fabric, finding her slick and warm, unbearably warm. He stroked her flesh, his eyes watching her as she tossed her head back, his fingers teasing and searching for the places that gave her most pleasure. She writhed, gasping as her hands shook despite that they held onto his shoulders, her body continuing to grind against his hand. 

His fingers dipped, just a touch, into her and she cried out as her back arched, her chest pressing against him. Heavens help him, it drove him mad. A madness he could not deny, would not.

"More," he hummed. "Show me more. Show me everything..."

Noah's hand was drenched in her fluids and his body ached, his clothes suddenly too tight, too stifling. Yet, he couldn't stop now, drunk on the image of her moving to his touch. She brought herself down hard on his hand as she cried out one more time, all but screaming as he felt her body shudder with her orgasm.

He could feel her pulse at every place their bodies touched and he knew that he needed her desperately. With swift fingers, he undid his trousers, groaning as he freed himself of their constriction. Without any heed to decorum (they had long fallen away from that, after all), he pressed his stiffness against her opening, careful (somehow) to not enter her. Yet, she moved of her own accord, sliding him against her sex, driving him ever closer to true madness. With the strength that had driven him through every battle, every war, he held himself back. He wanted, needed her to...

"Please," she begged in a low, gorgeous voice. "Please make love to me, my lord..."

That was all he needed. He pushed away her smallclothes, sliding himself against her one last time before she raised her hips only to bring them down as he (finally) entered her.

Her voice carried loud, screaming as he broke through her maidenhead. For a moment, he only held her to him, hissing as his body tensed at the agony of resisting his own need. His hands know free, he placed his palms against her cheeks his thumbs wiping away at the stray tears in the corners of her eyes.

"Shh, relax," he whispered, his voice soft even with a slight tremor. "The pain is only for a moment."

She nodded, the motion soft as she leaned her face into his touch. As gentle as he could be under the circumstances, he brought her lips to his again, kissing her soft at first before adding strength, his body pushing deeper into her as he began to move. With purpose, he paced himself, guiding her as best he could as they rocked against each other.

Despite all this, he yearned for more, wanted her so much that he wondered if he'd ever be satisfied. For most of his life, certainly as far back as he could remember, he had strove towards his vision of a world made by his own hand, a world that did not consider the circumstances of one's birth to judge them. He and his father had bent knee to Garlemald, but cowardice had nothing to do with it. What good is an honorable death if it does not change the fate of your people? Is it not just hubris and self-delusion that makes honor more important than determination?

And was it not just hypocrisy to deny that he too had desires both personal and private?

In rare romanticism, he wondered if a princess that had risen from a so-called low birth could be the perfect symbol of everything he believed in, everything he wanted for the world he would make with his own hands. As he tasted the sweetness of her lips against his, the idea felt right and true.

Perhaps, he could even find a little bit of happiness in all of it. Maybe he did not have to be alone... Maybe this princess could be HIS princess, a lady for a once-knight.

Noah held Marija close to him, burying his face into the crook of her neck, breathing her in. His touch was both gentle and firm, even as their bodies continued their intimate dance, lovemaking reaching a fever pitch as her hands grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, her voice clear and melodic in his ears. 

Maybe... maybe this could be love.

As Marija reached orgasm, she pulled Noah into that blessed release with her, he gritting his teeth as she cried out one last time. Even as the glow faded, Noah held her fast, refusing to let her touch leave him. Instead, he pressed an ear to her collar, listening to her heartbeat slow to a more regular pace, her breath evening out.

"Stay with me tonight," Noah whispered, though the statement came out more like a question than a command. Another surprise for him.

"If that is your wish, my lord," Marija said with a sigh, running her fingers through his now mussed hair.

"Thank you..."

Closing his eyes, he breathed her scent in, relishing in it even as his mind knew he had opened himself to a weakness that could damn him in the end...

But, perhaps, it would be worth it in the end.

Perhaps...

........

It was little wonder, then, that he would not foresee his bride to become a so-called Warrior of Light, a light to oppose him and all he had fought for.

**Author's Note:**

> Whew! Thank you for reading! Like I noted in the notes at the beginning, this is all headcanon for my own WoL's backstory and totally involves a side-character (a big one, but a side character nonetheless). I expect little interest, but why not share, amiright? I might add more to this in the future, because I'm a sucker for tragic relationships, but I don't want to make guarantees...
> 
> Still, thank you again! I hope you enjoyed this, dear reader! Comments and kudos are always welcome, but not obligated! Much love to all of you. <3 <3 <3


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